


Subtleties

by cantkeepupwithmyfeels



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Games, Idiots, M/M, pre-slash mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 15:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantkeepupwithmyfeels/pseuds/cantkeepupwithmyfeels
Summary: Prompt from batmanthrist on tumblr: I don't know if you're still in the writing mood but here's a prompt if you're up for it: clark non-explicitly asking bruce out in the middle of conversations and never being taken seriously





	

“He has to know right? I mean, it’s _ Batman _ .”

“Let it go, Bear.” Hal said not looking up from his magazine. The two were  _ supposed _ to be on monitor duty, but the Lantern normal took this time to relax and maybe catch up on some sleep if he was partnered with someone reliable and there were very few more reliable than Flash. Except apparently when there was drama afoot. 

“I can’t just let it go.” Barry sighed but reluctantly turned back to the monitors, far used to his friend’s routine. Between Justice League missions and Green Lantern duties, he couldn’t really complain if the guy fell asleep while working. Much. “It’s like watching someone slip on something in slow motion. It’s too late to warn them and you know it’s going to end in disaster.”

Hal snorted but didn’t object to the hyperbole. Of course Batman had to see it, they all had. It had been going on for months. Hell, maybe even  _ years _ considering the two had known each other for far longer than the rest of them had. 

_ Then again, _ he thought, glancing up towards where Batman and Superman were huddled over the plans for the Watchtower renovations.  _ The guy  _ does  _ have the emotionally intelligence of a potato.  _

Supes was standing shoulder to shoulder with the Bat, a proximity that seemed only to be reserved for him, Diana and his forty friggin kids. The aforementioned Bat’s shoulders weren’t as tense as they normally were. If it was anyone else, Hal would have just narrowed it down to the years of familiarity they had on the rest of them, but the Lantern had only seen that particular extent of relaxation around the other man’s fifty-seven bat kids. Hal shook his head, turning back to his magazine and taking his own advice, letting it go.

“We need to fix the water pressure in the ensuite showers, but that can wait.” Bruce said, lens covered eyes scanning the plans as Clark nodded along. “It’s the satellite that needs immediate attention.” 

“Did you see that new restaurant by the Planet earlier?” Clark asked as his friend lapsed into brief silence, most likely doing calculations in his head. 

“I did. That meteor shower on Monday caused more damage than J’onn and I anticipated. Some of the panels will need to be replaced.”   


“Well that’s probably because I needed to destroy an asteroid to  _ make _ it a meteor shower. We should go there for lunch tomorrow instead of the diner.” 

“Rosanne would stop giving you that free cheesecake if she found out we skipped out on the usual place. I can get new panels, but it might take a couple days.”   


“I can loop around the planet a couple times every day until we get them. And okay, that’s fair.” Clark chuckled, thinking of the older waitress that normally took his and Bruce’s order whenever the former was in Metropolis. “Well how about we go there for dinner?” He suggested albeit hopefully. 

“Can’t. Charity dinner. One that you’re covering.” Bruce hummed without missing a beat. “That’s impractical even for you, Superman. There might be a way I can get them as early as tonight, might have to involve Malone though.”

“Oh. Right, day job.” His shoulder’s sagged only the slightest bit and he raised a half amused eyebrow. “Malone  _ has  _ those kind of conections?” 

“You’d be surprised. I’ll make the arrangements for after the dinner later. If I can get them, you’re going to have to do the heavy lifting.”   
“Yeah, I can do that, B.”

* * *

 

_ He  _ has _ to know.  _ Dick thought watching Bruce and Clark crowd the monitor (Batcomputer as Nightwing had mentally dubbed it) looking over the results of the tests Bruce had ran on a strange metallic object that Clark had ‘ran into’ during one of his most recent battles. Clark’s hand rested on the top of the computer chair as he leaned forward for a ‘better look at the screen’, invading Bruce’s personal space. Rather than objecting to the proximity, B didn’t even seem to notice it. Which Dick  _ knew  _ was bullshit since his father figure was aware of almost everything in his environment. He was sure Clark was aware of this as well.

It was a familiar routine, one that Dick could trace back to his Robin days, when Clark and Bruce first began their uneasy truce that surcame to years of true friendship. Of course, back then he hadn’t been totally aware that Superman had been flirting with his guardian. Not until Jason had taken up the Robin mantle at least. He shook his head. At this point he wasn’t sure if Bruce was toying with the other man or if this had  _ actually _ managed to evade the Batman’s noticed. Which he seriously doubted. The pattern was always the same; they did some actual work for a few hours, standing or working closer to each other than strictly necessary, then Clark would bring up a movie he was thinking about seeing (this week was the new King Kong movie, go figure) or a concert or restaurant he wanted to go check out and would  _ casually  _ invite Bruce along, only for it to go over the Bat’s head. 

The worst part was, Dick _knew_ Bruce was interested. He knew Bruce better than the older man knew himself sometimes. They all saw the softness in his eyes when it came to Clark, the inside jokes, the way the Man of Steel could just ‘pop by’ without getting the whole ‘my city’ speech (most of the time) anymore. So it baffled the eldest child a little. He didn’t know why he toyed with the other man like that. Maybe he decided he would lose interest, maybe he had somehow convinced himself that he was somehow a danger to the indestructible man like he had most people in his life. Maybe he convinced himself that relationships themselves were too dangerous, too distracting from his work. 

_ Maybe, _ Dick thought as he watched Bruce’s lips twitch a little at some corny joke Clark had made before falling back into their neutral scowl.  _ He thinks he’s the one being toyed with. _

He shook his head and headed upstairs for something to eat, ruffling Damian’s hair as he passed him on the stairs.

“Try not to be as hopeless as them when you get older, okay?” He muttered, smirking at the confused look he got as he walked away.

* * *

 

Clark yawned and stretched, pushing up his glasses to rub at his eyes. Alien or not, staring at his computer screen for six straight hours had done nothing good to his eyes, or his back for that matter.

“So, even Superman gets uncomfortable in cheap office chairs.” He looked up in brief panic before his brain registered the voice. The shadows of the empty bullpen seemed to naturally surround Bruce, even when his Batsuit was traded for a nice Armani one. His lips were quirked in a small, amused smile as he approached his desk as he had many times before. “The job of an investigative journalist is never done I see.”

“Unfortunately not.” Clark chuckled, leaning back in the chair to better look up at him better. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Wayne?” He asked with a bit of a teasing grin. Bruce said nothing, just studying his face with those calculating blue eyes in a way that always made Clark want to squirm. Of course, if he did, that mean Bruce won. It became a game at some point, though he couldn’t say when, one he was almost sure he wouldn’t win. There was no winning with the Bat. He had even resigned to stop his advances, forfeit the game. He was content with being friends, that would be enough for him. 

Of course with Bruce, it wasn’t that simple. Because, like most things with the Bat, the moment Clark thought he was out, Bruce changed the rules. The billionaire leaned down and pressed his lips against the reporter’s, who responded to the long dreamt about kiss immediately, cradling the back of his head, afraid it would end just as suddenly. When Bruce did pull away, he was smirking.

“Come on, you owe me dinner.” 


End file.
